


ride (don't be scared of me)

by orphan_account



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Running Away, Smut, funny for like five seconds, just sad as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's the way Jungeun doesn't care to dip her toes in the water and dives in head first, like loving each other is nothing new to them.
Relationships: Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	ride (don't be scared of me)

This isn't what Jinsol promised when she begged her to come along.

They don’t know where they are, not by a long, _long_ shot. Jungeun can see a few hours more of blind travel until the first landmark, so they won't find out before they brave the drive. If it doesn't already suck that they're both drained and too tired to get going, they’ve to spend the night without the heat on, too, else they’ll exhaust the fuel sooner than expected. 

It's a frenzy, the concept of running away, because there's so much pros and cons to think on, and while she _can_ use a good two or three years away from her household, Jinsol doesn't appear to be as ready as she is. 

Still, Jungeun reserves a little faith in the girl, even if this whole thing _is_ starting to get to her. Just in case she starts making sense one of these days and leads her somewhere, like an actual _place,_ instead of this stupid barren roadside. 

For now, she'd rather sit back and let her take the reins. There’s nothing much to do, after all, when camped out in the middle of nowhere, sitting in the back of a chilly phased-out Honda. 

She doesn't know how else to pass the time but think. Is high school _supposed_ to be boring? Because there's been lapses here and there, sure, like quick post-finals house parties, spicy clique drama, the inevitable, itty-bitty self-discoveries, but nothing beyond. Her memory of coming out is about as raw as if it were just yesterday, but even then, she doesn't remember it to be exciting at all. 

She figured it gets better with time, the whole coming-of-age debacle, higher education, and so forth, especially noting all her other co-seniors who aren’t as miserable as their freshmen. 

But as it turns out— or at least, it’s how things are looking— everyone just gets used to it at some point of their lives.

If you’d ask her, she’d rather be downing a shot of low-end party liquor right now. It won't change a thing, that much is certain, because she _is_ a stupid girl, and she _will_ end up making the same vile choices. Still, though, the prospect of coming home to her parents, aging and grey and constantly fighting _,_ does sound way better after a night out and a few drinks. 

And when they ask, purely out of routine and nothing else, Jungeun can leave it to her well intoxicated self to get crafty with the lies. _What? I’m not drunk. School is fine. I’m having lots of fun, and I’m learning a lot._ It’s not like they actually care _._ They’re probably still clueless of her impending disappearance, but that's a given. It's how they are, and it's how she knows them to be.

So, like this, with her head heavy against some substandard cushioning, she isn't exactly having the time of her life. Jinsol has fallen asleep leaning against her shoulder, cold and nimble fingers interlaced with hers. 

She thinks it’s superficial, the adventure aspect of running away, the thrill and mystery of strangers; the full nine yards. Optimism was long decided a little too childish for her because she’s edgy like that, but somehow, it’s also quite the treat to see good in the world from time to time, even if it’s just Jung Jinsol slouching against her in deep sleep.

She remembers when they first met, as kids at a playground. It's nothing special, really, if you cut the part where Jinsol trips and nicks herself under the brow, effectively etching her distinctive, hook-shaped scar. Maybe if she straightened her back a little while running, Jungeun wouldn't be laughing to herself a decade later in realization of her everlastingly lousy posture. 

In retrospect, she _was_ a very stingy child to have poked fun at her for it, despite the other being taller by nature. It doesn’t suck all that bad, anyway, but for the advantage of having been taught how to sit “properly”, Jungeun _must've_ deemed it appropriate. She just thanks the Lord in silence for Jinsol’s gift of inborn naivety, to parry with about anything remotely mean.

The flashback has a bite to it, like a sour twist, because she also picks up on what she shouldn't still know by heart: _hands on your lap, Jungeun, with your feet pressed together._ It’s almost silly how her mother, with the very little time she hadn’t an argument with her husband, would choose to teach her something as unorthodox as the ways to _sit_. 

(Later, she finds out Jinsol sits the way she does because orphan keepers won’t bother the same.)

* * *

**7 New Messages from dumbass subongie**

**dumbass subongie:** jung jinsol i swear to GOD

**dumbass subongie:** u said u were getting us booze and weed like !@^$&#;* i know ure conservative FUCKASS i let u bcs u looked desperate

**dumbass subongie:** smhhhh u carnapper if its not in my driveway by 6 i WILL take legal action

**dumbass subongie:** but i fr need it back pls pls pls u know its my dads

**dumbass subongie:** heyyyyyyyy jinsol u there ?

**dumbass subongie:** u know what. just

**dumbass subongie:** read ur messages b4 im worried for real

* * *

“Jungeun?” Jinsol murmurs, voice gravelly with sleep. It’s still so cold in the car, despite them having winded up cuddled together. Jungeun has her back against the car door, while Jinsol is tucked comfortably between her arms. It’s just hit the brink of midnight when she peeks on the dashboard clock, and Jungeun is still awake, just in the middle of some Cinderella metaphor where they _have_ to go home now because, well, it’s twelve or whatever. “Jinsol,”

“Hey,” she mutters sullenly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, Jungie— y’know, I just—”

“Relax, moron. I’m here. You’re fine.” she grunts, a little dismissive, but Jinsol understands. If you'd been lured into ruining your life the same way your best friend wants to ruin theirs, then it's completely valid to feel that way, right? "Are you cold? Should we turn the heat up for a while?"

"I'm okay, Sol. Just go back to sleep before you can't anymore," Jungeun says plainly, in crude contrast to the way she strokes the girl's hair and pulls her closer. She can say it's to keep warm, if she doesn't count the urge to just sweep her bangs aside and plant a small, bittersweet kiss to her forehead. "Okay."

Jungeun stares back into the outside at that, scanning the absolute nothingness around them. She picks back up on her inner monologue, where she woolgathers about Disney princesses and figures of speech. ( _Fucking weirdo,_ she thinks to herself before anything else.)

She's still mindlessly caressing the back of Jinsol's head, a part of her just expecting the emotional outbreak that's bound to be, judging from the jittering of freezing fingertips against hers. She sighs as they graze her skin in fast and tiny pokes, almost jarring her line of ridiculous thought.

"Hey, Jungie?" she finally breaks, sentence curling into a weird, sad lilt, "I'm sorry, alright? For all this,"

"I know I could've just left you out of it and disappeared on my own, but, yeah, um," she inhales shakily, trying her hardest not to cry, "I just— I don't want to lose you too, y'know? You're all I have,"

"I know," Jungeun answers with a smile, concise and _evasive._ She lifts Jinsol off her chest with a polite strength, only as straight as it requires her to comfortably shed her jacket, "And, _y'know_ , if you were cold, you should've just told me,”

Jungeun drapes the thick blue cotton zip-up over Jinsol's shoulders, looking anywhere but back into her glossy eyes. She takes her trembling hands and rubs them between her own, leaning in to blow warm air into the mix.

Jinsol just watches her, throat burning with the ugly, acidic taste of regret. Jungeun has never _ever_ denied her a thing, but she wonders if this finally oversteps the line. There's quite the bold, prominent border between an innocent favor, with promises and pinky swears, and some offhanded, life-altering decision. 

"Anything on your mind?" Jungeun interrupts in perfect timing.

"Just you,"

"Again?" She replies coolly, tapering off into a light chuckle. Jinsol laughs, more out of disbelief than anything, "And you? What are you thinking of?"

"I'm thinking," Jungeun makes a point of bringing their joined hands to her lips, kissing softly at one of the paler knuckles. "I should've had one more shot at Sooyoung's before we left,"

Jinsol snorts at that, raising a brow at the girl. "That's dumb," she murmurs, thumbing at the skin of her hand. Now that she's said it, Jinsol can pick up at the hints of alcohol in her scent and absolutely _abhors_ it. "Why?"

"So I'm drunk enough not to think about this stupid roadtrip," Jungeun says carelessly, realizing too late that she's fed the hanging tension in the air. 

It doesn't matter. Why should it? In the morning, when Jinsol asks her why she's leaving, she can say it's because she's carsick, or that she _hates_ roadtrips. 

(Because she _can_ stay behind and forget this ever happened, live her life normally and knock herself out with all the liquor in the world. She hates to say it, but life would be so much easier that way.)

She knows she hit a nerve, because Jinsol is crying again, prying her hands from Jungeun's in sheer penitence. 

"Come here," she says, _demands_ , framing the girl's trembling face in her hands. She takes a mental snapshot of the moment, of Jinsol looking as sad and sorry as one can be, under the only beam of moonlight they can afford. She's beautiful, always has been, even when she's flushed to the ears, tear streaks and all. 

It's a pity it's come to this, mourning their losses in a junk auto, stressing over marriages that aren't theirs and parents that hadn't been. She wonders if Jinsol has a plan for both of them, or if she's setting herself up for disappointment. If it's fair that they both have nothing to lose, or if it's unfair that they only have each other. It's already done with, anyway, her trying to view the world in a way that's not on the extremes of lame and utterly horrifying, but if she's so gutsy to run off into some uncertain paradise with Jinsol, then she _must_ be hoping for something.

Then, as if to top it all off, she wonders if Jinsol actually _likes_ cheap tequila, because she doesn't wince when she kisses her. In fact, she leans in to deepen the kiss, arms slinging around Jungeun's waist. She tastes of sweet, cherry cola in the mouth, and Jungeun doesn't miss the Chapstick on her lips. She doesn't notice they'd fallen until she's staring down at Jinsol, overriding tens of thousands of her mental snapshots for this one in specific. 

She can say it's to keep warm, the kissing, if she doesn't count the pure want to just _love_ her, keep it like this for the rest of their eternity. 

Jungeun stalls the thought to keep touching, sometime stripping Jinsol down to her black graphic shirt. She doesn't know where the fuck she got this car, but she definitely could've gotten one with a bigger back instead. Like this, with the girl pinned down into the rubbish upholstery, just barely caged between her knees, she just hopes they'd been in a king size in some alternate reality.

Jinsol drapes her arms around Jungeun's neck, pulling her down for another heady kiss. The pace stutters when she slips right under her shirt, fingers ghosting at her ribs and caressing at her side. "Jungeun," She whispers, senses near flooded, "I think I love you,"

"I know," she says against her mouth before shoving her tongue in there for good measure. Jinsol is so adorably squirmy, so noisy with her little squeaks and hums to accent the sound of lips against lips, teeth clinking together just occasionally. 

They take it upon themselves to get in a more comfortable position, something with Jinsol on Jungeun's lap. Jungeun is quick to grab at her bare thighs as soon she sits, feeling Jinsol up under her warm grip. "Jungeun," she breathes out, grinding down impulsively.

They kiss again, because _of course_ they do. Jungeun retires her self-control and infiltrates Jinsol's tee, grabbing away at her waist, fingering at the straps of her bra. Jinsol pulls away to try and take it off, all of it, but Jungeun grabs her wrists before she can. "Don't. It's freezing,"

"No, it's not," she insists, tugging, "It's _not,_ "

Jungeun candidly ignores her and leans in to lick at her throat, sucking a mark into her skin. "Jungeun, take it _off,_ " she whines, arms going limp just as she bites. It's stirring, electric even, like little cracklings of pleasure shooting straight down to her core. 

"Jungeun," she chants her name, halfly forgetting why on account of the searing hands on her shivering figure. Jungeun is almost dizzy at how pliant and responsive the girl is being, moving at the jurisdiction of her touch only. She's littered with light bruises at the neck to last until the morning, lips swollen from making out. She's damp at the forehead now, hair sticking to her temple as if to _prove_ it's not freezing. 

Then it's just proper to lift the shirt off her head and unclasp her bra, map out the uncharted area of pale, sensitive skin. Jinsol squeals when she pinches, kissing and biting, roughing it up below her collar. 

There's no one here to see her like this but Jungeun, no one here to see her marked up and delirious and _hers._ It's a shame, honestly, because it would've been just perfect to brag the marks on her neck, even if they won't live to see another day, then those on her chest, purpling and _possessive_ — if there's a single bit of her who wants to give this all up and turn around, it's because she wants to tell everyone back home that she's Jungeun's. That she _belongs_ somewhere, for the first time in years.

"You're mine," Jungeun declares like she knows exactly what she's thinking, jostling her on her lap. "You're _mine,_ " she repeats, because she catches the way Jinsol swallows, harsh.

"I am," she whimpers her confirmation, clinging to her shoulders for purchase. Jungeun looks straight at her when she grazes over the damp fabric of her underwear, fully expecting the crimp of her body over hers and the small lewd noise that immediately follows. She feels herself leak at the premise of ruining Jinsol, rubbing at the girl over her panties for their mutual indulgence.

Jinsol doesn't ask for anything more, only buries her face into the crook of Jungeun's neck and rolls her hips to match the rhythm of her hand. She inhales sharply when she pushes the fabric aside and presses harder, even if she's only still toying with her wet heat instead of—

"Fuck!" She cries loudly at the intrusion, faintly jerking. It's sudden, not unwelcome, but Jungeun pauses and halts the single finger halfway inside. She pecks at the tip of her ear and whispers her reassurance before resuming promptly, sinking the whole digit into her slick center.

Jinsol's breathing is labored already, fanning her neck in hard, intermittent gushes before she's even built a stable tempo. She's trying to match it too, grinding into her with a whine bubbling up her throat. 

"You're so wet," Jungeun says because it's true; she _is_ making a good mess of them both. If not on their thighs, honeyed arousal is trickling to the leather seat, and it makes her grow so hot in the face. Jinsol moans because she knows well enough it's too soon to feel this out of it, but she does, and it's so _addling._

"Jungeun, please," she whines without a single thought more, clinching the shoulders of her shirt as she rocks on her lap. Jungeun fits a second finger inside, thrusting deep and gingerly into her burning core. 

Jinsol latches onto her neck on a senseless, split-second decision to stifle her noises. Jungeun is just _blazing_ under her tongue. She feels kind of grounded (or as grounded as she can be under current circumstances) and tries to brand her with a hickey, as she did Jinsol with a handful. It's the most she can do like this, and Jungeun shows her appreciation by clawing at the flesh of her thighs.

"You're so good for me, aren't you?" she pants, fingers digging crescents into her skin. Jinsol writhes at the edged force, nodding gently under her jaw.

She still scampers to think, head both in interlude and racing at the same time. It's the way Jungeun doesn't care to dip her toes in the water and dives in head first, like loving each other is nothing new to them. It's precisely that, that makes her feel so high under Jungeun's touch. 

She's hers, only hers, and it rings loudly in her head like a newfound mantra.

It's then that Jungeun sits her upright and grips her chin, dragging the pad of her thumb across her sore lower lip. Jinsol is almost pathetic, riding her fingers with a look on her face that's needy and so obviously flustered. It feels criminal to slow in the slightest, like this was something so long overdue. She feels her heart skip a beat at the sight, thinking of all the things she wants to do to her. 

(And more importantly, all the things she wants to do _with_ her.) 

With that, she curls her fingers to an angle and swallows the long sob she wrings out of Jinsol, thoroughly skimming her lips and tongue. Jinsol reaches between her thighs mindlessly, finally building friction against her throbbing, aching clit. Jungeun slips a third finger and pushes to the hilt, giving her a final push.

Jinsol whimpers into the kiss, drawn-out and throaty as she cums. It's an overwhelming high, the heat in her stomach just bursting into microshards of sweltering pleasure. She feels like crying when Jungeun pulls away and fucks her through it, holding her as she slumps and shudders.

* * *

**dumbass jindori is online**

  
  


**dumbass jindori is typing…**

  
  


**dumbass jindori:** hey. its jungeun

  
  


**dumbass jindori is typing…**

  
  


**dumbass jindori:** don't expect us back

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this was surprisingly so fun to write ummmm.. anyway blm acab 1312 also junk terror bill save lumad schools & oust duterte


End file.
